


Life, Love And Lies

by Galfridus



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: A ‘What If’ Scenario, Alternate Reality, Canon Divergence, Happy endings all round, M/M, Professor McGonagall Is A Little More Vigilant, Some Dialogue Taken From The Goblet Of Fire, Spoilers, This Is Clean But There Is Some Swearing, and this is what happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 13:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16220105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galfridus/pseuds/Galfridus
Summary: Albus Potter is in a bit of a pickle. He hates the reality he and Scorpius have created and is absolutely, positively determined to change it. Only Professor McGonagall interferes with his plans. What might have happened if Albus had gone back into the past on his own to witness the aftermath of the Triwizard Tornament.





	Life, Love And Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. Thank you for giving this a go. This is my first time writing for the Harry Potter fandom and it’s a much larger beast than the fandom I usually write for so I am a little nervous. 
> 
> This ‘what if’ scenario is set after Albus and Scorpius have returned to the present having scuppered Cedric Diggory’s chances of winning the first task. I’ve tried to fit it in with this part of the play save for Professor McGonagall paying more attention to what the boys are up to. 
> 
> The segment in the past takes dialogue from JK Rowling’s Harry Potter And The Goblet Of Fire.

“Aaarrrgggg!”

Albus felt his insides whirl, his stomach drop to his shoes and his face contort like putty in the wind. Beside him, Scorpius was also screaming, his ash blonde hair whipping round his face and his hands clenched into fists. Swirls of orange and magenta flashed across his vision and Albus closed his eyes, praying that the torment would soon be over and, not for the first time if he was being honest with himself, sincerely regretting getting hold of the time turner. He forced himself to think of Cedric’s face - the kind, brave student who had so much potential - the innocent boy his own dad had brought to his untimely death. 

But not anymore. He and Scorpius had gone back in time and ruined the Triwizard Tournament and so saved Cedric’s life. They had done it too: it had been a little hard to make out what had happened in all the commotion but he was sure that Diggory junior had not been able to snatch his egg from the dragon’s clutches. Cedric was safe, and now everything would be alright.  _ So much for me being useless at spells _ Albus thought as he imagined his dad’s somber face, the pleading green eyes and exasperated twist to the mouth that appeared whenever the famous Harry Potter addressed his youngest son.  _ That’ll show him _ . 

But something was wrong. As the whirling began to subside and the smell of damp moss assaulted his nostrils, Albus felt a sharp pain that only grew in intensity the more the dark, looming trees of the forbidden forest came into view. His arm was on fire: wave after wave of agony crashed through him as he struggled to speak, struggled to keep his surroundings in focus and a familiar doubt squeezed at his chest. Perhaps, like everything else, it had all been for nothing, a waste of effort. A waste of the many advantages life had forced upon him. 

“Did it work?” he asked sharply, gritting his teeth as Scorpius landed with a bump at his side. But before he could really get his bearings there were his mum and dad and uncle Ron and everything around him faded to black. 

The next few days were some of the most excruciating of his life and cemented Albus’s view that his dad was the biggest ass ever to walk through Hogwarts’ many corridors. He was keeping them apart: his one and only friend in the world was never to speak to him ever again and they were no longer even in the same house. Everything was all wrong and Cedric was still very much deceased. Even uncle Ron was miserable

And what had he done? Amidst the horrid confusion of this new reality he had blanked his best friend, the only person in the whole world who truly cared for him. Seeing Scorpius’s face fall had made everything worse. His wonderful, easy-going, upbeat friend was hurt and wounded and it was  _ his _ fault. 

Albus had tried to make up for it, had tried to apologise, even concealing them both under his brother’s invisibility cloak when Professor McGonagall came looking for them in the library. But it was to no avail: somehow the headmistress had known exactly where they both were and had dragged him, protesting, back to Gryffindor common room, Scorpius’s call echoing in his ears. “It only lasts five minutes!” his friend had shouted after them as Albus, perplexed, scrunched up his brow. “Listen to me, it only lasts  _ five minutes!  _ You have to be quick.”

“What is the boy talking about?” Professor McGonagall demanded as they passed the familiar portraits which lined the central staircase, her hand gently but firmly clasped around his upper arm. 

“I don’t know,” Albus answered truthfully. He chewed over the words, trying to fit them into the puzzle, but try as he might he could not make sense of them. 

“And I will be taking this,” the headmistress added with some acerbity as she clutched the invisibility cloak in her free hand. “What was your father thinking giving this to a student?”

The headmistress sighed, exasperation sounding clearly in the harsh outward breath. “You know very well you are not to spend any time with Mr Malfoy. If I catch you two together again you will have detention for a week.

“I’m sorry, Potter,” she muttered as she ushered him through the fat lady’s portrait leaving him, once more, lost and entirely alone. 

“Fuck!” Albus snarled as he stomped through the common room, throwing the gillyweed he had purloined onto the blazing fire. With some satisfaction, he watched the plant burn instantly in a plume of blue smoke, crackling merily as it turned into ash. He had never felt so rotten in his entire life,  _ which is saying something  _ he thought bitterly to himself. So much for his plan to sabotage the second task, to humiliate Cedric and so keep him out of Voldemort’s clutches. Everything about this reality was wrong. 

With great annoyance, he plunged his hands into the pockets of his robes, feeling the sharp pull of the fabric on his shoulders as his fist crashed into something hard. 

The time turner! With something approaching reverence he uncurled his hand, wrapping his fingers around the comforting metal and tracing the delicate patterns on its surface. Scorpius must have managed to place the object in his pocket as they cowered together under the cloak. He brought it out carefully, a grin pulling his face into an almost painful smile as the firelight caught the gold and silver. It felt like a very long time since he had used these particular muscles. He could go ahead with the plan after all!

Then he stared in horror at the fire. “Double fuck!” he cursed as his face glowed with shame, an uncomfortable blush pushing its way down his neck. How could he have been so stupid? Without the gillyweed his plan was as sunk as the loved ones the Triwizard champions were supposed to be rescuing. He could never save Cedric Diggory now. 

“No,” he suddenly muttered as he stared at the fire. He had been plotting ways to stop Cedric from doing well in the tournament so he would not have his head start in the maze and so would not be there when his dad touched the cup. “I don’t need to sabotage him. I need to make it so that Cedric does not show up at all,” he continued aloud to himself as his thoughts coalesced to a plan. “I need to lock him in a cupboard without his wand until the whole thing is over. Then he’ll never be in the maze, he won’t touch the cup and there will be no spare for Voldemort to kill!”

Mind made up, Albus began to make his way towards the portrait. But as he touched the back of the fat lady’s frame he heard her shrill call from the other side of the wall. “Don’t you try anything, Mr Potter. I am under strict instructions not to let you out until morning.” The muffled sound of singing, bad enough to split eardrums, followed this pronouncement and he grit his teeth in frustration as his hand fell back to his side. How could he have let McGonagall take the invisibility cloak?

“There must be another way out of this place.” Eyes darting all around the unfamiliar common room Albus took in the impenetrable walls hung with red and gold drapes, the comfortable sofas and the roaring fire: it was so  _ bright _ compared to the soothing green and silver of the Slytherin common room and Albus felt very much not at all at home. 

Then his gaze flashed to the dormitory stairs and a chink of moonlight which shone like a puddle on the polished stone steps. “Of course!” he shouted in excitement before remembering himself. “I’m not in the dungeon,” he continued more quietly as he listened to the crackle and spit of the fire. But no one came thudding down the stairs in response to his indiscretion. Evidently the Gryffindors were all sound sleepers.  

As quietly as he could, Albus padded up the common room steps, carefully making his way towards the boys’ bedroom. Once safely inside, the sound of snoring enough to confirm that his roommates were all sound asleep behind the deep red velvet curtains, he opened the window and clambered out of the castle, thanking his lucky stars for his slight build. As he perched awkwardly on the windowsill he was hit by a fierce wind, the cold biting his face and freezing his ears and he felt his fingers begin to numb with the cold. 

Without warning, Albus felt his heart sink as he began to wobble, his shoes losing their precarious grip on the narrow stone ledge. Then he was falling, tumbling through the air, too frightened even to scream as the ground rushed towards him.

***

“Mr Potter!” The call of his name penetrated through the fog and he groaned aloud as he opened one eye. Every single limb in his body ached, and the intensity of the light made him wince. “Back so soon?” the voice continued and Albus looked up into the stern face of Madam Pomfrey. 

“And now you are awake, what exactly were you doing climbing out of the dormitory window?” Albus sighed inwardly as he turned his head, his neck protesting at the movement as he looked directly into the eyes of Professor McGonagall. He bit his lip and the familiar thoughts began to invade his head.  _ I am such a failure,  _ he chastised himself.  _ Only I would fall out of the stupid window _ . 

Professor McGonagall shot Madam Pomfrey a look, the latter bustling away, the sound of her shoes clacking on the stone floor. “I do understand,” the headmistress said more quietly as she tentatively squeezed Albus’s shoulder. Instantly, a bolt of pain shot down his arm and McGonagall quickly pulled back as his face contorted. “But running away is never the answer. You need to learn to live your life, to make the best of things…”

“Easy for you to say!” The complaint was out of his mouth before he could stop himself and the sour expression on the Professor’s face confirmed his mistake. 

“You will watch your tongue, Mr Potter. As I say I have my sympathies but the way you are behaving will win you no friends…”

“I haven’t got any friends!” he yelled back, the resentment bubbling under his skin forcing its way to the surface. “ _ You _ won’t let me speak to Scorpius. You and my stupid dad…”

“We will speak of this when you have recovered.” The tone was clipped and Albus felt the rant he was brewing die in his throat as Professor McGonagall pressed her thin lips together. “Until then, goodnight.” With that, the headmistress swept away, her black cloak billowing behind her as she strode from the room. 

As soon as he was alone, Albus sprang to his feet, his muscles creaking and groaning and generally telling him to stay put. But he could not, would not continue to live in this reality where Scorpius Malfoy was as miserable as he. Turning towards the window, Albus saw the sprigs of a branch tapping on the glass, and knew this time that his plan would work. He didn’t even need to be that precise. All he had to do was go back to the final morning of the Triwizard Tournament and put his budding plan into action. 

Albus quickly made his way to the window, pulling it open and hauling himself up to the ledge. The branch was sturdy enough and he clambered onto it, closing his eyes briefly as it swayed in the wind. “How does this thing work again?” he murmured to himself as he removed the time turner carefully from his pocket, running his fingers over the small metal devise. “The number of times you turn it is the number of hours you travel back? So how many hours…”

Just then, Albus heard the sound of voices echoing along the walls of the hospital wing and, in a panic, he started twisting the tiny hourglass in the centre of the contraption. “One, two, three…” he counted as the voices he could hear grew steadily louder, “four…” He kept turning the metal, trying to hold the number of spins in his head but, as he neared the end of his task he cursed as his fingers slipped and his digits fumbled. He had lost control of the fiddly mechanism. 

But then the now-familiar whirling gripped his body and soon he was rushing through the air, the landscape before him changing in the blink of an eye. Day turned to night on a loop and the seasons continually changed as he crashed towards the past, an irritating ticking pecking at his ears. Then, at last, the movement ceased and he was once more stationary outside the hospital wing, the branch he was clinging to covered in leaves and white flowers as the afternoon summer sun shone hot on his back. As he came to a stop, he tightened the grip of his knees, allowing one hand to leave its position to swat at a bug flying in circles around his head. The beetle buzzed off, its wings moving angrily as Albus peaked cautiously inside the window. 

Immediately he knew he had made a mistake. “Damn it,” he hissed as his eyes took in the very large group of people all clustered together, one of whom definitely had Aunt Hermione’s hair. He quickly withdrew his head, hiding his face and hoping to goodness that he hadn’t been seen, not needing to strain his ears in order to catch the loud conversation. 

“You are prepared to take Harry’s word on this, Dumbledore?” 

Albus’s heart beat like a drum in his chest, blood pounding through his veins as he snuck another look around the edge of the window. Sure enough, there was the former headmaster, the man whose name he carried, his long white hair cascading down his back. He was facing a much shorter man who appeared to be bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet and who Albus recognised from photos as former Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge.

“Certainly I believe Harry.” Albus had to focus his attention to catch the headmaster’s reply over the incongruous growling of a large black dog. “I heard Crouch’s confession and I heard Harry’s account of what happened after he touched the Triwizard cup. The two stories make sense. They explain everything that has happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer.” Albus cursed himself inwardly as he processed the words and their meaning. The tournament had already taken place; he must have turned the hourglass too many times and overshot his target. Cedric was dead and he had failed miserably once more. 

“You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned on the word of a lunatic murderer and a boy who... well…” To his surprise Albus felt his face flush with anger as Fudge looked towards the hospital bed and, following the movement with his own eyes, he saw a boy not much older than he lying there. His face was unnaturally pale, the familiar scar shining like livid red lightning across his forehead proving beyond a doubt that the young man was his parent. 

As Fudge continued his tirade in the face of Dumbledore’s calm assertions, Albus barely registered how the bark of the branch dug into his fingers. How  _ dare  _ the man speak about his dad like that? Annoying though he was, his dad was no liar, not about important stuff. 

As if on cue, his dad sat up in bed. “Look, I saw Voldemort come back!” Harry shouted in the face of the official’s hot disbelief. “I saw the death eaters! I can give you their names. Lucius Malfoy…”

Albus watched in horror as the Minister continued to disregard everything he was told, to bluster and bullshit and shriek his denial. As the argument continued, for the first time in his life Albus understood the desperation his dad must have felt in this moment: to have seen the Dark Lord and to have not been believed. The force of his anger was only matched by Dumbledore’s ire and the palpable hostility of the rest of the party. 

So distracted was he that he failed to notice that the time turner was vibrating violently in his pocket. It was only when his leg started to shake with the force of its movement that he took it out, his eyes widening in puzzlement as he watched the metal shimmer and glow. “This is what happened before…” he murmured to himself before the whirlwind engulfed him and pulled him back to the present. 

It was a little easier this time, having experienced it already and Albus closed his eyes, breathing steadily in and out. Why had he been dragged away from the past so soon? He can’t have been there for more than five minutes…

“That’s what he meant!” Albus screamed into the wind and for the umpteenth time that day he kicked himself inwardly. Scorpius had tried to tell him, and being the idiot he was he has failed to understand. He could only stay in the past for five minutes: his plan to remove Cedric from the fatal situation he had faced that day was doomed from the start. 

Still, it was not the end of the world, he comforted himself as he crashed back to the reality he had been so desperate to change. He had done nothing in the past, had spoken to no one. He could write the whole experience off and formulate a plan, a  _ real _ one this time not some half-baked frenzy. There was still the second and third tasks untouched; he could surely find a way to use those to save Cedric. Quickly, Albus slipped through the window and under the covers of the bed he had vacated as the sound of voices moved into the room. 

“Albus! Thank goodness you’re awake. We were so worried!” The boy blinked in confusion as his dad practically ran towards the bed, a slender ash blonde man following in his wake, his evidently expensive cloak billowing behind him. “Whatever did you get into a fight for? You could have been seriously hurt,” his dad chastised, his expression full of worry, but all Albus could do was stare at the man by his side. 

“Er… hello, Mr Malfoy,” Albus said tentatively, his insides suddenly squeezing with dread. “Is… is Scorpius okay?”

He heard the sound of pattering feet on stone, followed by a shout. “Here I am!” his friend called cheerfully as flung himself around the fame of the door before trotting over towards him. “I brought you some books,” he said triumphantly as he deposited an armful of tomes on the bed. “What? I thought you might like something to read! You’re going to be in here a while after that knock on the head,” Scorpius continued as Albus stared at him in utter amazement. 

“Scorpius told us all about it,” Harry said softly as he placed a warm hand on Albus’s shoulder. “Albus, you know that fighting is not the answer…”

“They were being  _ horrible _ ,” Scorpius protested, his arms rigid at his sides, hands curled into fists as he faced Harry head on. “You didn’t hear them! They said you were disgusting. That  _ our family  _ was disgusting! They said…”

Scorpius was cut off as Draco’s arms encircled him, pulling him into a close embrace. “It’s okay son,” he murmured. “We talked about this, remember? We all knew it was not going to be easy. Their opinions do not matter to me, and they should not to you. To either of you,” he added firmly as he turned to face Albus. “As long as we care for each other, they lose. So do not put yourselves at risk; these idiots are supremely unimportant.

“And Albus, you need not call me Mr Malfoy,” Draco laughed as he released his son. “I believe we are past that now, or at least I hope we are.”

Albus Potter looked at the three wizards surrounding his bed, feeling close to fainting as his mind churned and chuntered. He could actually sense his brain spin as his dad moved towards his supposed childhood rival, their upper arms touching as his dad ruffled Scorpius’s hair. What the heck was going on? Since when did his dad give the Malfoys the time of day, especially in the fucked up reality he had created. 

“Are you alright?” Scorpius asked, his eyes full of concern as he stepped closer to the bed, peering into Albus’s eyes. “You look confused,” he added helpfully, a crooked smile curving his lips. “That conk on the head was a big one alright.”

“I’m… fine,” Albus stuttered as pushed himself up on his elbows into a sitting position, surprised to see he was back in robes trimmed with green and that the ache which had earlier plagued his limbs so badly had completely disappeared. The only discomfort that he now felt was a sharp thud in his temple. 

And despite the persistent ringing in his ears he really  _ was _ fine. For the first time he could remember since the sorting hat had yelled the word  _ Slytherin _ over his head, the persistent gnawing at his insides seemed to have stopped. His dad looked towards him, his face still etched with worry, but even so it was evident that he was genuinely pleased to see him. The thought made Albus feel quite warm inside.

“I… guess I just need to rest.” He smiled at his dad, who grinned back in return, before crouching down and wrapping his arms round his shoulders. The movement caught Albus by surprise and he leaned into the hug, wondering if this was how his brother James felt when he spent time with their dad, the easy affection passing between them always chewing him up inside. 

“Harry, we had better go and see Professor McGonagall,” Draco said reluctantly and his dad pulled away, one hand lingering on Albus’s arm as he straightened up. “You know she does not like parents to keep her waiting.”

With an apologetic look, Harry started to head towards the door before he turned back, his face slightly red. “Listen son, I just want to say it means a lot you chose to stay with me. I know it’s been difficult, the public reaction, and… I’m sorry, really sorry you’re being bullied because of me. Again. I love you and it will be alright.”

Albus watched in puzzlement as his dad and Mr Malfoy headed out of the hospital wing, walking far too close together. “I must be seeing things,” he sputtered incredulously as his pressed his hand to his aching head. “I could have sworn they were holding hands. Stupid brain!”

“But… of course they’re holding hands. They’re so soppy. They do it all the time. We were joking about it only last night,” Scorpius retorted, his broad grin faltering as he stepped towards the bed, pulling over a chair and plonking himself beside Albus. “Are you quite sure you’re okay?” he asked carefully as he peered into Albus’s face.  “Maybe I should get Madam Pomfrey…”

“No! I’ll be fine. I just need some time to process things.” Albus leant back on the pillows, closing his eyes as he wondered exactly what could have happened. All he had done was watch a conversation through a window for precisely five minutes. How could he have changed reality again?

“They’ve been like that since they got together,” Scorpius continued, his eyes rolling up in his head. “Bloody embarrassing, but it’s sweet all the same. And, you know, I’m glad you’ve come to live with us too. I always wanted a brother, and it’s  _ awesome _ . I can’t wait until Christmas…”

“Wait, we live together?” Albus asked sharply. “Since when?”

Scorpius fell silent at once and looked at him hard.  “Since your parents separated this summer and your mum moved in with Dean Thomas,” he said slowly, “and I’m going to get Madam Pomfrey now, okay? You stay here. I mean you can’t go anywhere of course but don’t move. I’ll be right back...”

“No! I mean, of course we live together. I was just joking.” Albus forced himself to chuckle, as Scorpius’s face gradually morphed from suspicious to gleeful. 

“Yeah. Amazing isn’t it. I couldn’t believe it when father said your dad was moving in with us. And he was  _ smiling _ ! Father never smiles, not since mother died… 

“Anyway,” he continued and Albus saw his friend’s throat move as he swallowed, “then father said you and Teddy were coming too and I have never been so happy. I knew Teddy would come but I thought for sure you’d stay with your mum and your brother and sister…”

“No, I’ve never felt at home there.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Albus recognised them to be true. He had thought it was the curse of being Harry Potter’s son which made him feel so out of place, but it was more than that. It was being a plotter in amongst those who loved action, a nerd among jocks. The quiet of Malfoy Manor as described by Scorpius had always appealed, and he had come close to asking his parents several times if he could spend some of the holidays there but had stopped himself, knowing exactly what their answer would be. 

He braced himself on the bed, hoping his next move would not arouse suspicion. “So, how did they get together? Do we know?” 

Scorpius sighed as he leaned back, arms resting behind his head. “We’ve been over this. I tried asking, but I can’t quite figure it out. I don’t think my father really knows either. Your dad said something about how you have to learn from your mentors, and that he should have done so long ago but that’s all I know, and I’m not going to pry. They’re both happy, we’re happy, or I am. Really happy. That’s good enough for me.”

Albus pressed his lips together, shaking his head slightly before a wave of pain brought a quick halt to his movements. Scorpius grinned at him again before reaching over to the pile of books on the bed, picking one up at random. Albus in turn looked over the volumes. Scorpius had obviously gathered them up in a hurry; they formed an eclectic mix of fiction, school books and biographies of famous wizards. There was Merlin, Salazar Slytherin and the former Hogwarts headmaster whose name he reluctantly bore. He traced over the familiar cover, a special leather-bound edition of  _ The Life, Love And Lies Of Albus Dumbledore.  _

“Wait!” he cried as he picked up the book, his heart racing in his chest. “That’s not the title!”

“Excuse me?” Scorpius looked up from a copy of  _ Muggles Through The Ages _ which he was listlessly perusing. “Oh! That book. Well, I think it rather is,” he puzzled. “Always has been in my memory anyway. And goodness that Rita Skeeter did such a hatchet job! I can’t believe it got published! Still, she got the scoop on Dumbledore and Grindelwald’s relationship alright, and I guess no one can ever take that away from her.”

“Dumbledore and Grindelwald?” Albus said in confusion as he quickly leafed through the pages, blood pounding in his ears as he quickly skim read and unable to really take in the words in his haste. 

“Yeah, an unlikely item they make too, but there it is. Grindelwald gave her the full story, I don’t know why. I guess he was lonely. He’d been in prison for donkey’s years and it must be pretty miserable. But surely you’ve read this Albus?” Scorpius shot back with a frown. “I mean, you’re named after the guy and all.”

Taking deep breaths and forcing himself to calm down, Albus slowly read the author’s dedication at the front of the book. In rather gushing prose, Rita Skeeter thanked those who had contributed to her book, saying many people had helped her more than they had expected. She gave particular thanks to Gellert Grindelwald, who she interviewed in 1996 before he was declared insane and moved to an asylum. 

But surely that was  _ after _ the Triwizard Tournament. 

Albus racked his brains to remember what his aunt Hermione had told him and his siblings about how she had found out that the infamous journalist was an animagus and… “She put her in a jar!” he cried, the noise making his friend jump in his chair. 

“Steady on, who put who in a jar?” Scorpius asked as he laid the book in his lap. “You have to make sense if you want me to understand!” Then his face morphed once more with concern, the corners of his mouth falling. “Maybe I should get someone…”

“No, it’s fine. I think I get it now.” Albus grinned, as he flopped back onto the pillows. It all fit together: he had disturbed a beetle as he landed in the past causing the furious creature to fly away. That must have been Rita Skeeter in disguise, hoping to get some dirt on his dad, and she had buzzed off before Hermione could catch her. She must have  continued to work, continued to publish, continued to interview interesting subjects. Gellert Grindelwald must have been on her list. 

Albus felt the grin on his face grow even wider as he looked Scorpius directly in the eyes. “I really do get it. Everyone’s happy. You’re happy, I’m happy, our parents are happy. Everything has worked out for the best.”

“Well, I think your dad’s also happy because he caught that witch.” Scorpius chuckled. “Imagine conning that poor Mr Diggory to come to our house and say he wanted Cedric brought back from the dead. Seemed super fishy to me. I’m so glad your dad listened when I told him that Delphi was acting odd when she spoke to us. Do you know, he was telling me on the way here that she’s a really dark witch and that she was trying to bring Voldermort back from the dead! She had this creepy shrine to the Dark Lord and everything. She’s in Azkaban now, and it’s the right place for her.”

“Delphi? Really?” Albus held his hand to his head, massaging his temple as he tried to process this new information, before giving up. Whoever had hit him had done a really good job. 

Scorpius stood up, removing the books from the covers and piling them beside the bed. “Hey, you should get some sleep. You look all in. I’ll stay here,” he added as Albus opened his mouth to protest. “But get some sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning. You might find your memory is a bit better then,” he scolded as he say back down his seat.

Albus closed his eyes, a warm contentment flooding through him, deciding that he could in fact live with this reality. And in any event he had no choice: without Delphi he had no chance of getting hold of the time turner so further attempts to change the past were out of the question. “Um... Scorpius,” he murmured, as he drifted off to sleep. “I’m… thanks. I’m really glad you’re my brother.”

“Yeah, me too,” Scorpius replied softly, a smile creeping over his face as Albus started to snore. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks very much for reading. Comments welcome.


End file.
